Me writing about men like bad male authors write about women

‘He charged into the room, pert testicles bouncing gaily. I saw a scar & wondered if he’d had a vasectomy. He opened his plump lips, full of promise but annoying words came out...something about a football match’

His penis looked sad, like it knew it’s best days were behind it. He was 30 long past his sexual peak. A 4 pack left , the memory of 6 pack. I imagined lonely days doing tricep dips in his flat share. This was a one time thing, not boyfriend material . I would hit this & quit

He came past my window every day in his running shorts, flaunting toned calves. He WANTED me to see him. Stopping to tie his shoelaces, fingertips dancing lightly over Air Max . Glancing at me through virile eyelashes, promising everything. Would I gift him my vagina I wondered ?

The new temp had his top 2 buttons open. Did he know how much chest hair was glinting at me flirtatiously? Almost more fun if he doesn’t I thought, allowing myself the fantasy. After all, I was running this Fortune 500. He was just a blank page for me to write my desires on

His buttocks like marbled rock, almost chiselled by the gods themselves. Temptura. Women have conquered oceans for these . I wanted to keep them forever in my mind, perfect. His gonads playing peek a boo through them. Tempting little plums. Did he want me to flick them? Probably

The pool boys taut pecs rippled invitingly in the sunlight. Nipples like bullets ready to shoot helpless women in his sight. I wondered how he even left the house with those things. Did he spend days playing with them? Luxuriating in the bath, marvelling in their mystic wonder?

I saw a woman Louise standing next to him, running a finger along his collar. I was immediately filled with rage . I knew then I would have to fight her. The idea of her seeing his tender, nestled trouser treats made me furious. They were mine alone. She had to be destroyed

He sat opposite her on the tube daily. This was an invitation. When he picked up his copy of Short List she would start a conversation. He was shy, she could tell by how he crossed his legs to shield his pocket potatoes. He licked a finger to turn a page. Filthy little, shy, slut

He knew what a tight little package he had. As he walked away derrière high , he looked over his shoulder . Nostrils flaring lustily he said “I’ll have those spreadsheets done by lunch” . Yeah office whore you will . If anyone was gonna get that sweet office seed it was me

He bounded in perplexed “I’m worried my dick looks too big in these trousers, they won’t take me seriously” I gestured him to my lap. The smell of our sex still on him, musky like an old ford cortina. I said “Babe they didn’t hire you for your brains. Now, while you’re up there”

She put her lapsang souchong on the table and stared intently at him “What do you think you can bring to the company?” She said out loud but inside she was wondering the exact capacity of his bottom flower and whether other women had explored it. “I’m a self starter” he replied

He spoke fast, lips like two dancers colliding in a saliva tango. I wanted those lips on me, I would kill any woman who got between me & those lips. I must have them, wherever I wanted them, whenever I wanted them. Sound filtered in “and she said yes” . I knew what I had to do

She was delighted at the size of his huge member not because she liked big penises but rather she wanted her hands to look petite. There were some signs of wear and tear on it but otherwise OK. The gooch was ungodly though and she would have nothing to do with it

Just because she was 67 and on the board didn’t mean it was an abuse of power. He was so coquettish with the filing. Sure he was only 21 & he needed this job like she needed those goose eggs in his pants. She was tired of her husband in his 40’s now and packing quails down there

The dull ache of her desire had been with her all day. Annoyingly the new guy had worn a shirt that was too tight. Pecs straining at the leash, buttons begging to release them. She was going to speak to HR about the dress code. How could she be expected to get ANY work done?

He had cheekbones you could open oysters on and deep green eyes like pond algae. He said he had never had a girlfriend before. I would be his first, his guymen was mine. Once I had conquered that schlong mountain, I would tell everyone about in email or on an instagram post

He was so morose Agatha wondered if he had gone fuck crazy. Madness of the cock. She’d have to get Nurse Scrapings back in again to treat him. He was yet to provide an heir which was very inconvenient . If it continues , I’ll have to put him in the attic and move on she thought

He rolled out of bed half mast and put on a waifer thin pair of trunks. You could see the outline of his dick, like a mole rat in a straight jacket
He strode confidently to the window, nuts clacking like lusty castanets. He stared out, not a thought in his handsome little head

She wondered if she looked at his penis in the back of a spoon it would appear bigger? No matter he wasn’t a catch, that probably just meant he was one of those guys who tried a bit harder in the sack. She’d lie back and think of Prosecco. Smash and dash. That was the plan

He flounced off in a huff. Susan was exasperated with him. She heard the door slam as she reached the landing. Some soft sobbing followed by the sounds of Fifa loading. She tapped on the door
‘Fine!’ She said ‘I respect the shit outta you, now let me see those chino charms’

A quick google search revealed what a tempting piece of clit bait he was. His hair was the colour of Lucozade Original & immediately she wondered if it was matching down there. Was his manhood nestling in some pumpkin wool? A flesh coloured sea cumber surrounded by apricot reefs?

He knew what would happen if he delivered her pizza late. He was 20 minutes over, in sweat drenched bike leathers. ‘Please don’t report me, I have a family’ he pleaded sexily. She pondered how much of her weight he could take whilst she threw herself around on his bread stick...

She peeked under the duvet at his limp penis. Reminiscent of a glow worm in a snood. Maybe she could crank it like an old man restarting a jalopy. He wasn’t that into it clearly but that wasn’t her problem. ‘Thumb it in!’ she demanded & proceeded to lay back and think of Clooney

His voice drifted in, something about a promotion & maybe starting his own company. ‘STOP!’ She screamed. ‘I can’t bear hearing about your silly MAN dreams, they’re utterly pathetic’ . His face quivered. A single tear rolled down his cheek provocatively. ‘Let’s fuck’ she said

She had a hankering for cock and a hungry crotch. She mentally scrolled through her options. Matt would want to hang out after & talk about his divorce. Maybe Liam? He had undulating muscular thighs and low Neanderthal brow but he also had Smash Mouth and Maroon 5 on his playlist

‘Wear something sexier tomorrow’ she said. Maintaining eye contact she played with an newtons cradle executive toy on her desk. She grabbed the balls with her gloved hand. “Brad, before you go, how many of these do you think I could fit in my mouth?” He was visibly trembling

He had such flirtatious sperm. He’d better not be wasting any of it whilst he was on his own. She left a note in his car ‘no masturbating’. That didn’t solve the problem of his flirty coworkers though. Forced vasectomy was the only way. She booked an appointment with Dr Snip.

He came at her barrel chested , nipples like vinegar hardened conkers. ‘Superaffentittengeil’ he demurred . ‘Oh shut up Klaus, I don’t speak German’ she replied. Even though she did fluently. She was only interested in his efficient bratwurst

He strode testosteronily towards her. Frowning he handed her a cocktail. ‘Smile’ she said ‘men always look more attractive when they smile’ she removed 50 lira from her sweaty cleavage & stuffed it in his mouth. Equivalent of 3 pounds sterling. ‘Plenty more where that came from’

He kept quoting bits of a podcast at her as if she gave a shit about his opinions. She was staring at his blancmange like bicep. If he put a bit of work in on those he might be fuckable. Still she thought ‘You don’t look at the arm rests while you are banging the chair’

The waiter took her order, peeking provocatively over his sexy notepad ‘Any sauce with that ?’

‘How about some of your potent bang sauce?’ She replied commandingly

He gulped, making his bow tie bob up & down flirtatiously ‘My boss said to report you if you did this again’

‘Chill out babes, it’s just banter’ she leant back on the chair exposing the reinforced gusset of her tights

‘Guess I’ll just give my tip to the fun waiter then’ she pointed at a flushed Miguel who had a lipstick mark on his cheek . Miguel laughed but inside he was crying

It was night time and he was walking alone. She would keep following him though , so what if it creeped him out? It wasn’t her fault he had an arse that wouldn’t hand in it’s resignation. She put on her iPhone torch to see it better. Like 2 fleshy, denim clad curling stones. Fit

She was cleaning by the jacuzzi when she saw him. Flaunting his derrière in skintight swimming trunks. He bellyflopped alluringly into the deep end. Breaching the water like deranged gasping porpoise he caught her eye. She air humped her mop back at him. What a whore she thought

The 2 friends sat opposite her on the train. Both in football kits. One had a dwindling handsomeness & evasive hairline. The other was hirsute with bulbous calves and a resting cuck face. I wonder if they’ve ever fucked each other? They seemed naughty, slutty guys. Probably

Gripping the beef joint sensuously he pushed it through the slicer, sweat dancing on his brow. He tucked a stray hair under his fishnet trilby. Slaggy little meat merchant. She decided to hump him in the cold storage which after 5 minutes with her would be HOT HOT HOT storage

His grey trousers were so tight they were borderline sterilising. No way a cheeky little vine tomato wasn’t being squished. He knew what he was doing when he chose those big dick pants

“Tickets please” he said flirtatiously. His name tag said ‘Harold’

The game was a fuck

The pouty barista turned to make her coffee with an air of insouciance . His natty little apron had come undone on one side. Was it on purpose? Maybe he was a lonely little fuck boi. She admired his rump. I could play that arse like filthy bongos she thought to herself

Brian didn’t respond to Mel’s subtle flirtations and bicep rubbing at the bar. So she started DMing him unsolicited arsehole pics. When he ignored that too she went to his Facebook to declare he was ugly & should get back in the garage where he belonged. NOW he would want her